


Fever Dream

by OpalizedFossil



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Armor fucking, Blowjobs, Cuz sometimes the furry just leaps out of me, Knotting, M/M, Monsterfucking, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Saliva as Lube, Size Difference, Stupid Sexy Burnish Armor, WE GOT MONSTERFUCKING BOIS, with a sippe of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25350511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalizedFossil/pseuds/OpalizedFossil
Summary: And you thought that you were the boss tonight, but I can put up one good fight.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis (Promare)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 64





	Fever Dream

Guiera’s in one of his rare moods.

Ordinarily, Gueira is the more laidback between them. Where Meis is wound tight as tendon on a good day, Gueira is relaxed. His temper flares, for sure, but his outbursts settle quickly, from an inferno to an ember in an instant - and even with his temper, he’s certainly the more optimistic between them. Meis is certain that, if the circumstances weren’t what they were, Gueira would be a fun-loving, easygoing, goofy bastard. Usually, he still is. But,  _ easygoing  _ has its boundaries when life, for them, is a thing that rips and tears and bites with a nasty maw full of teeth, a life lived on the run with no constants but each other. Nowhere is home for more than a few days at a time. Food is increasingly scarce and there isn’t much water to be found this far out in the desert. The other people in their lives come and go, and when they  _ go _ , they’re usually gone for good, ashes scattered in the sand with only Gueira and Meis to carry their memory. Things have gotten harder for them over the years, with Freeze Force growing wise to their usual tricks, leaving the pair only one step ahead of them when they used to be in the lead by leaps and bounds.

It would be a hard life for anyone, but especially to Gueira. Not because he wasn’t tough. Not because he wasn’t strong. But, because a life like this wears on someone’s optimism, wears their hope thin, wipes the smile off their face forever.

Meis doesn’t ever want to see that happen, not to Gueira. It’s easier for him; he was a cynic long before he was a Burnish and, even in their own ranks, he’s wary of people. He’s been realistic about the hand fate dealt him from the beginning, imagining that, after he and the redhead he met at the detention facility nine years ago broke out and fled into the desert, their petty crimes and casual theft and mere existence would someday catch up to them, until they, too, were only ashes in the wind. He’s never imagined that it could ever end happily, not for them. But, Gueira’s always been the hopeful type, a romantic to his core, painting fantasies in Meis’ mind about a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and neatly groomed flower beds and a mailbox with their names on it. And Gueira’s good mood has always been infectious. He has a way with people, and especially with Meis. Maybe he’s made Meis hopeful, too, and maybe that’s why they’ve both made it this long, taunting death at its very doorstep in their every waking moment and frankly enjoying the ride.

Tonight, Gueira isn’t optimistic, or hopeful, or fantasizing about a sweet domestic life with Meis’ lithe body slumbering peacefully beneath the sheets in a shared master bedroom with a ring on his finger. Tonight, Gueira is the one who’s bitter. Meis can always tell when it’s coming, these episodes of quiet, before Gueira ever retreats outside their hideout to look at the stars glinting silvery white in the night sky without really  _ looking  _ at them. Rather, he stares right through them. He’s seated in the sand not ten feet from the little cavern they’ve made their base for the night, and yet he’s a million miles away. Meis can see it in his eyes, foggy with a depressive haze, the light inside snuffed out like a cigarette butt.

Fortunately, Meis always knows how to fan Guiera’s flames, how to relight his fire.

He knows this man, inside and out, as well as he knows himself, maybe better. From the slight scruff of patchy stubble on his chin between straight-razor shaves, to the little flecks of amber that glow bright in his dark brown eyes, to the divots between each and every rib that’s started to show through his skin the longer they’ve spent on the run. There’s a wily, scraggly sort of beauty to him, his face gaunt with hunger and yet wise with age the way a 28-year-old’s shouldn’t be. That wisdom hadn’t been there when Meis first met him in the detention center nine years ago, and neither had the frostbite scar that encircles his neck like a collar, but nothing that’s changed about him over the years could ever convince Meis that Gueira is anything less than beautiful. Stupid beautiful. Stupid handsome, in his rougish way. Stupid happy-go-lucky, for someone in his shoes. And stupid, stupid,  _ stupid  _ in love with Meis. 

Meis returns the sentiment tenfold and then some.

Gueira is gazing intently through their campfire when a pebble strikes him between the shoulder blades, snapping him out of it. Flames red as blood are licking halfway up his arm in an instant, sending sleek black claws shooting out his fingertips, his breath catching in his throat and coming out in a steely growl. He’s on his feet without realizing he’s stood up.

Meis frowns at him. Gueira’s been jumpy lately. He can’t blame him; their last base, the rotten skeleton of what had once been a convenience store, had been caught off-guard in the quiet of the night in a one-sided bloodbath that left three of their own dead a mere four days ago. Meis knows better than to get attached to anybody but Gueira, but Gueira loves people, makes friends in a heartbeat, and mourns every death like it was his own brother. Gueira should have heard him coming, should have recognized his footsteps, but he didn’t. Because he was thinking too deeply and too distracted to notice him at all.

“Don’t worry, ‘s just me,” Meis says. The night is quiet around them. Gueira lowers a fisted claw, the flames slowly retreating back down the length of his forearm, tan skin reappearing where sleek black obsidian once laid. “Leave ‘em. Y’know I think they’re hot,” he comments with a wink as he sits down in the pebbly sand by the campfire, gesturing Gueira down with him. No one would recognize it as a wink but Gueira, his other eye eternally hidden behind the thick black veil of his hair. Or rather, his lack of another eye.

“Startled me,” Gueira replies, with none of his usual inflection. He sits.

“No shit,” Meis remarks, carefully lowering his head down onto Gueira’s shoulder with a sigh. The desert is cold at night this time of year, but his breath doesn’t hang heavy in a fog when he exhales. His body burns too hot on the inside.

Gueira’s head reclines onto Meis. “You here for a heart-to-heart?”

“Depends,” Meis says, one hand idly reaching for Gueira’s. His fingers are thick, black, and hot like the fire that flickers before them, still forming sharp claws at their points. Meis smiles; Gueira left them, like he asked, just to humor him. He would do anything Meis asks. “Do you wanna have one?”

“Nothin’ I can say that you don’t already know, luv,” Gueira replies, lifting his chin only briefly to thread those clawed black fingers through Meis’ curtain of black hair. It’s soft as silk even when it’s greasy and smells faintly of sweat. He can’t imagine how soft it would be if it were clean. “Just thinkin’.”

Meis leans into his touch, pressing his paper-white cheek to Gueira’s slate-black palm. It’s a touch so hot that it would burn anyone else, but not him. “I know,” he says softly.

“You always know, luv,” Gueira says, chuckling humorlessly, tucking a stray strand of Meis’ hair behind his ear, the shell of it littered with little odd-and-in earrings they’ve amassed over the years (and the tab from a soda can), “You’re smart like that. It’s  _ because  _ you’re smart like that, that we made it outta there at all. Just wish -”

Meis cuts him off, “Don’t start blamin’ yourself. You did everything you could.”

He lifts a hand to Gueira’s cheek, where it sits soft and warm and soothing, and Gueira leans into it with a noncommittal hum. “You come to cheer me up?” he asks after a moment.

“Don’t I always?” Meis asks, before bringing Gueira’s face down for a kiss. He feels the prickle of the five-day stubble on his chin when their lips meet. Where Meis is soft, Gueira is chapped and rough, but Meis likes that about him, too, tonguing along his lower lip experimentally before he pulls away with a grin. “What did ya have in mind?”

“They’ll hear us,” Gueira reminds him, promptly remembering that the survivors of last week’s attack are lingering in the scattered caverns and hidey-holes around them, spaced only a dozen or so yards apart.

“Let ‘em hear us,” Meis retorts, “Ain’t nothin’ they ain’t heard before.”

Gueira shakes his head and chuckles, with a bit more humor this time. There’s a flicker of life in his eyes, reflected in the flames. The fire beside them crackles with interest. “You’re impossible, luv. Insatiable. We’re gonna make right bad neighbors to somebody someday.”

Meis is already kissing him again, mumbling against his lips, “I’m sure.”

The fire flickers, suddenly burning brighter, blazing higher. Gueira leans back on his palms, still encased in black obsidian armor, and hums thoughtfully against Meis’ lips, kissing him back eagerly until the black-haired man comes away with a laugh, putting their campfire out with a wave of his hand. “Easy, you’re gonna send up a beacon a mile high if you keep gettin’ excited like that, y’know.”

“Sorry,” Gueira says. He isn’t, black armor crawling up past his elbows as he cups Meis’ face and kisses him again, harder this time, full of tongue and teeth sharper than they should be, glowing faintly green. Only when Meis is bent backwards almost flat on his back does Gueira realize that his armor is expanding up his arms and legs, starting to shake it away in frustration with a startled grunt. The flames really have a mind of their own sometimes.

Meis laughs, throaty and deep and beautiful, and drags Gueira down into the sand for another kiss by his shirt collar, whispering hurriedly, “Let it happen. I wanna try it.”

“You’re crazy,” Gueira warns him.

“You like crazy,” Meis reminds him, “an’ besides, I’m curious. Wanna know what it’s like, if it’s possible.”

“I’ll split you in half,” Gueira remarks, pulling away just enough to study Meis’ one blue eye quizzically, quirking a brow, “You serious?”

Meis leans forward and reaches behind his shoulder to rid himself of a particularly bothersome pebble, tossing it away. “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t serious. I wanna try it.”

Gueira leans backwards on his heels, his combat boots turned to clawed hind limbs as his armor edges it way up his calves, wrapping his clawed hands around Meis’ lithe waist for emphasis. His fingers meet in the middle of the slim stomach. “Meis. Miami is  _ too big _ .”

“Coward,” Meis accuses him, and that does it.

Gueira blows hot air out of his nostrils in a huff, brows drawn together in a pout as he frowns down at Meis and the devilish little smirk he’s currently wearing. The damned vixen doesn’t even need makeup to give himself the world’s best bedroom eyes. “Fine. You kinky little bitch,” he retorts, “You always were into the weirdest shit, luv.”

Meis sticks his tongue out at him. “An’ I’m into weirder, if you’re ever feelin’ brave.”

“Shuddup,” Gueira says, and then he’s smothering him with a kiss that’s growing toothier and toothier by the minute until Meis is reaching up and grabbing him not by his soft human face, but by a big metallic maw lined top and bottom with glinting green teeth, glowing faintly in the moonlight. Those fearsome teeth split open around an equally fearsome tongue, lapping so, so sweetly against Meis’ open mouth, slick with saliva thick as oil.

Meis shudders beneath the smothering weight and suffocating heat of the massive Burnish beast suddenly set upon him, smiling eagerly against its foot-long tongue, as wide around as his wrist and then some, as he greets it with his own, tasting the bitter tang of Miami’s thick saliva as it drips down his chin and onto the chest of his tattered tank top. The heat of the beast would have been overwhelming if he were anything less than a Burnish himself, but he can more than handle it - in fact, it only makes him hungry for more.

“Don’t rip my clothes,” Meis warns him when he finally comes away from their more-tongue-than-kiss, a thread of saliva stretched between them before it breaks with a swipe of his tongue, feeling Miami’s glinting black claws pawing eagerly at the waistband of his trousers, trying to tug them down already. “I’ll get ‘em for you. I know dexterity ain’t exactly your strong suit, babe.”

The trousers come undone with a chuckle, Miami moving away to let Meis stand at a simple shove to his very broad shoulder, rippling with muscle made of smooth black obsidian and hardened flame and pulsing with a heat that flows through it like blood, almost like real living, breathing flesh but still distinctly otherworldly and strange. Drool is dripping off the end of his pointed red jaw, glowing faintly in the moonlight, as Meis kicks his pants off, his shirt quickly following (or at least, what’s left of it after the last Freeze Force raid). Underwear are a luxury he’s long since given up on, his clothing constantly being singed off his body or otherwise destroyed. The instant it’s all off, Miami is on him again, something between a purr and a whine rattling in the thick of his throat like an engine as his tongue rolls languidly along Meis’ hip. A big brute his size could easily have his way with Meis any way he pleased, but he doesn’t - in fact, he’s remarkably gentle, that tongue rolling oh-so-sweetly along the inside of Meis’ thigh as he eagerly cocks a leg to the side, granting Miami access to what he so clearly seeks.

Meis’ cock throbs at half-mast between his legs. But, even as he gazes down at Miami through one half-lidded eye, a smile playing on his lips as he takes in the sight of the huge Burnish beast on its knees for him, slobbering like a dog over his cock, it fills out a little more in arousal, fingers reaching eagerly for the twin horns that spiral upwards from its angular head. Miami’s clawed hands reach for him, hoisting him up high enough to reach, too tall even on its knees, and Meis’ hands curl around its scalding-hot horns, hanging on tight as he eagerly thrusts his half-hard cock into its maw. Any right-minded person would be mindful of those massive, glowering green fangs, but Meis had been on the run for too long and been tortured one too many times in a Burnish detention facility to be completely in his right mind. And besides, Gueira loved him and would never hurt him, so neither would Miami. There’s nothing to fear, only slick, wet, wonderful heat as his cock meets Miami’s huge tongue, drool dripping between its sharp teeth as Meis rolls his hips against its maw. He shudders with a sigh, only barely remembering to breathe around the words, “Good boy…”

Meis didn’t realize he had closed his one eye for several seconds more, Miami’s claws squeezing gently at his backside and bringing him back to reality a moment before he loses himself prematurely to the hot, hot pleasure of the beast’s maw. He cracks his one eye open, glancing down at the Burnish beast with an open-mouthed smile, managing to still his hips for only a moment before he’s thrusting against him eagerly again, heartbeat fluttering. “Sorry. You’re just so good,” he praises him, fingers scratching eagerly at the hinge of the armor’s jaw. It answers him with a rumbling growl, softening when Meis bends forward to plant a kiss to its forehead. If Miami had any eyes to speak of, Meis knows that they would both be watching him adoringly. The thought makes him smile, earnestly this time, as he slides down from his perch in Miami’s hands, his cock suddenly feeling achingly hard in the sudden chill outside of the beast’s maw. 

“Lay back,” Meis says, already pushing Miami backwards, the beast letting itself be led easily. He and Gueira have tried a lot over the years, but this is new territory, even for them, and Meis isn’t sure what he expected when he glanced between Miami’s legs, but it earns a sharp little gasp from him anyways. The thick cock glowers the same neon red as Miami’s horns and claws, pulsing wetly in the moonlight, emerging from a slick slit somewhere in the armor. It almost looks sharp, but its as soft and giving as human flesh when he reaches down to experimentally touch it, earning himself a rumbling growl from the beast. Its angular, studded with ridges and bumps like those on a high-end stimulating sex toy, and thicker at its base. If Meis had to guess, he would say it’s somewhere between nine and ten inches long - not as big as Miami could have made it, he’s sure, but big for a skinny guy like him to even consider. But, he can take it. He knows he can, because he’s going to make sure it happens, one way or another. It doesn’t have to fit, because Meis is the type to  _ make  _ it fit.

When Meis collects himself enough to stop staring, still squeezing the cock gently around its pulsating red shaft, he finds that Miami looks eerily smug for a creature without much expression at all beyond aggressive and angry. He scoffs at him, giving the beast’s chest a good-natured shove, before he releases his twitching shaft just long enough to climb on top of him (a feat in itself). He reaches behind himself, pert little ass, white as snow in the silvery moonlight, turned towards Miami’s maw purposefully as he drags his fingers through the slick of the beast’s saliva. “That’s handy, ain’t it?” he comments, “No lube necessary, huh? You like to improve, don’t ya, Gueira? Well, how about you  _ improvise  _ a lil’ and get me ready for the main event, yeah?”

Miami chuffs an affirmative and Meis settles down on its barrel chest, propped up on his elbows as he admires the twitch and throb of the armor’s cock, oozing thick gooey pre down its length. He reaches for it, eager for a taste, when Miami’s tongue abruptly rolls over his backside and he erupts into a moan at the sudden flash of wet heat against his tight pucker and taint, as suffocatingly hot as it is arousing. But, Miami doesn’t stop at the first lick, its tongue eagerly driving between his parted ass cheeks to explore him more intimately, black claws holding gently to Meis’ hips to keep him steady while it preps him. Just when Meis thinks he’s adjusted to the sensation, Miami’s thick tongue pushes into him and he yelps with a moan, shooting upright with a cry of Guiera’s name and his own cock splattering pre across the armor’s black stomach.

Miami stops immediately. Meis is panting, taken aback by just how  _ good  _ it feels. “‘S okay, don’t worry,” he reassures it, “Just felt real good, that’s all. Keep goin’. I’ll tell ya if I need to stop, yeah?”

The huge head rises and falls in a nod, and then that tongue is back inside him, pressing in further this time, and he’s groaning needily into the night sky, indifferent to the scattered Burnish refugees he’s likely keeping awake past moonrise with his little moans and sighs and exclamations of Gueira’s name. It’s two solid minutes more before Meis collects himself enough to reach for Miami’s cock again, this time managing to guide its sweltering tip between his thin lips before the armor’s tongue drives him again, spreading him apart further. He stifles his moan on Miami’s shaft, tasting the bitter tang of its pre, even stronger than that of its saliva and yet somehow delicious, guiding inch after inch into his mouth until the tip of it meets his throat and he has to swallow hard and concentrate to let it pass through. Miami snarls in arousal and he feels the vibration of it going straight to his prostate, his hips jerking of their own accord in response.

Gueira might be optimistic and easygoing and sweet, but patient, he is not, and neither is Miami, the Burnish beast’s patience quickly wearing thin as ice in early spring as Meis’ clever little tongue starts to work at him, flicking eagerly over the tapered tip of his cock before the shaft is delved back into that hot, tight throat. Miami has spread him wide open by now, Meis’ hole slick with saliva like oil, and its eager to get on with it, giving Meis a sharp whine as it pulls away from him and nuzzles his chin with its sharp angular chin. He comes away from its cock chuckling, thin lips wet with a mixture of saliva and pre, glancing over his shoulder with one half-lidded eye at the whimpering monster. “Somebody’s eager, huh? Watcha think, babe? Wanna fuck me?”

Miami gives him a look as if to say,  _ What kind of question is that?  _ and Meis laughs, already turning around to face the armored beast, peppering its angular snout with little open-mouthed kisses. “I guess that’d be alright, since you’ve been so good to me tonight,” he lulls. Miami’s teeth curl up in a devilish-looking smile; Meis’ accent comes out more with arousal, getting thicker with the hornier he gets. Gueira has always found it indecently cute, particularly when Meis is painfully close and spurting swears between moans and screwing his brows together and - 

“Watcha thinkin’ ‘bout, babe?” Meis asks, pecking him on the muzzle one more time before he leans back with an indecently sexy grin, that one blue eye hooded beneath a veil of naturally thick lashes, the empty socket where the other used to be still concealed behind its blindfold of hair, “You wouldn’t be thinkin’ dirty things ‘bout me, would you, Gueira?”

He receives only a throaty growl in response, laughing lightheartedly as he reaches behind himself for Miami’s cock. “Alright, moment o’ truth,” he remarks as he straddles it, one hand braced on the beast’s hard-as-rock stomach while the other grasps its cock by its base. He takes a deep breath - in and out, in and out - and slowly, slowly eases himself down on that wrist-thick shaft. A wave of heat hits him in the face as Miami exhales sharply, a beasty gasp, suddenly sheathed in the constricting warmth of Meis’ ass. Meis squeezes his eye closed in concentration, sliding halfway down with a sharp little sigh. It’s big. Huge, even. The biggest damn thing he’s ever taken. But, Miami had been sweet to him, it seemed, preparing him perfectly, his oil-slick saliva the perfect stand-in for lube and making the going slippery and easy. Meis would have to remember that, the next time he found himself horny in the middle of the desert with no lube on hand and no sex shops in sight. Gueira gave great, sloppy-wet head, but sometimes, a blowjob just wouldn’t cut it.

Meis’ ass meets Miami’s pelvis. He opens his eye, sighing softly, and gives the beast a lopsided smirk. “Told ya I could take it,” he teases, and then he’s shifting his hips up, up, up, until Miami’s cock is almost completely out of him, before he slides himself back down on it, moaning sharply, “F-Fuck, Gueira! So fuckin’ big!”

Miami’s maw splits, tongue lolling out in an easy pant while Meis rides him, that barrel chest, hard as rock and hot as fire, rising and falling quickly with rising excitement and arousal. Meis’ own cock bobs with his up-and-down motions, pre oozing steadily from the head, dripping down onto Miami’s prominent, sculpted abs. Where Gueira is malnourished and thin, all lean muscle and sinew tied up in knots under tan skin, with no padding of fat in-between, Miami is solid and hard and strong as the bull whose horns it wears, compensating for what Gueira feels that he lacks. The first time Meis had seen Miami, he had felt sad. His beloved didn’t see in himself what Meis sees, that he’s already perfect precisely as he was; no matter how starvation and nutrient deprivation eat away at his body, his spirit remains, and therein lies all the strength he’ll ever need. Meis believes it. He wants Gueira to believe it too, someday.

But, right now, Meis has never loved Miami more, his mind scattering across a dozen scenarios where he asks Gueira to summon his armor for some experimentation like this again. Maybe next time, he would let Miami bend him over on all fours and fuck him into the floor. Or maybe he would rut himself into the giant’s maw until he came and watch the beast drink down his come - or vice versa, that sounds nice, that sounds - 

Something thick and hard hits Meis in the ass and he startles back to reality, his rhythm faster and rougher than he remembers. Miami’s hips are jerking upwards to meet him halfway now, sending his shaft spiraling deeper and deeper into him, grinding into his prostate with every stuttering, sloppy thrust. It tears a moan from his throat so hard that it almost hurts, Meis’ voice coming out hoarsely, “What’s that?”

Miami rolls his hips up into him, grinding that thick, hard, bulbous something into him. Meis’ breath catches in his throat and he gives the beast another good-natured shove, grinning delightedly at the realization. “Y-You’re knottin’ me, aren’t you? Gueira! You’re so fuckin’ nasty!”

The armor tries to blow him a kiss in response, but only succeeds in chuffing comically, Meis half-laughing and half-moaning as Miami picks up the pace. He isn’t sure how much of their movements is him now and how much is Miami, but it’s probably mostly Miami, his strength quickly sapping as the tight knot of heat in his depths threatens to come undone, arousal building and building and building until he comes with a shout. “F-Fuck, Gueira! Gueira, Gueira, Gueira…,” he moans his name like a mantra, come splattering wetly against the beast’s stomach, bright white against stark black.

Meis is panting, his breath coming in jerky little inhales, heart pounding against his ribcage. “C-Come inside me, babe. Knot me. Please, please, please…,” he begs through the haze of arousal, and Miami is all too happy to comply. Meis’ vision flashes black and white and he thinks he screams as the beast’s fat knot snaps into him with a comically wet pop. For a moment, he thinks he must have died, he came so hard he fuckin’  _ died _ , and this is what heaven feels like, full of hot, wet come shooting into his ass in thick ropes and an equally wet tongue laving over his chest and throat - but then, he opens his eyes and Miami is glowing silver and red underneath him in the moonlight, huffing smoke out the nostrils that sit on top of its snout as it pants in post-orgasmic bliss. Meis is suddenly exhausted, intensely satisfied in the way that immediately beckons for sleep, and tries to lean forward to lie down on Miami’s barrel chest when he realizes with a start that he’s  _ stuck _ .

“G-Gueira,” he stutters, voice weaker than he cares to admit, sighing softly as he smiles down at the big burly beast, its tongue trailing out the side of its maw in blissed-out satisfaction, “Get your dick outta my ass, babe. ‘m tired, wanna clean up an’ go to bed.”

Meis doesn’t realize he’s closed his one eye again until he’s reopening it, feeling flames curling up underneath his palms as Miami’s upper body melts back into human flesh and blood, Gueira’s scraggly red hair reappearing underneath him, along with soft, brown eyes glistening with affection and that warm, familiar smile he knows so well.

There’s his Gueira.

“What? Don’t want my nasty knot up your ass anymore?” he chides. Meis shoves him, more weakly than ever, relaxing only when he feels the rest of the armor peel away into bright red flames, the cock inside him shrinking down to something much more human-sized and the knot flickering away with the fire. Gueira’s cock slides out of him easily now, as he all but collapses onto his chest.

Gueira wraps his arms around him, not caring that they’re laying butt naked in the dirt in the middle of the desert, beside the smoldering remains of a campfire, with a dozen people regretfully overhearing them and prepared to be mad as hell at them in the morning. “You were right, luv,” he remarks.

“Of course I was, but ‘bout what?” Meis asks, fingers strumming idly at Gueira’s collarbone like the strings of a guitar. It’s more prominent through his skin now than it once was; he needs food, desperately, and they lost all their rations in the last Freeze Force raid, along with four lives. Four friends. It’s hard for Meis to think of them like that, even now, but Gueira thought of them as friends, so he should, too.

“About  _ that _ ,” the redhead replies, “That was fuckin’ awesome.”

Meis laughs. “Yeah, it sure was. But you were kinda overcompensatin’ with that monster-sized dick, yeah? Thought that thing was gonna split me clean in half!”

Gueira drums his fingers on Meis’ ribs. “Tried to warn you,” he chastises, “You never listen.”

“I never listen,” Meis agrees, smiling up at him, “My legs are pretty much jell-o, carry me.”

“And what makes you think mine aren’t?” Gueira laughs out loud, before he plops his head down right there in the dirt, sighing softly, “Just...pretend it’s a mattress. On a big king-sized bed, with soft silk sheets. In an apartment.”

“We have an apartment?” Meis muses.

“Yeah, or maybe like, a house?” the redhead continues, “And it smells like cigarette smoke and bad coffee.”

“I want a cat,” Meis adds.

“And there’s cat hair on everything,” Gueira agrees, “and I let it drink from my cereal bowl and you call me nasty like you always do.”

“You just ate my whole ass,” Meis remarks, “You are nasty, babe.”

Gueira’s arms tighten around him. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“I love it,” Meis agrees with a sigh, burying his face in the familiar warmth of Gueira’s nape, filling his senses with his familiar scent, feeling his familiar fire simmer just beneath his skin, “Are we really gonna sleep out ‘ere?”

“Nah,” Gueira says, “I’ll carry ya inside in a minute. Just wanna lay here for a few.”

“Okay. Tell me more ‘bout the house. I kinda like the idea.”

And really, it’s only an idea. One of Gueira’s optimistic fantasies, the stories he tells them both late at night to distract them from the reality they’ve found themselves in. Meis likes to think that maybe, just maybe, someday the world will be a place where the Burnish can live in peace among the public, where he can have a house in the suburbs with Gueira and maybe a quaint little wedding that their surviving friends can attend (he knows, deep down, that nothing he and Gueira do together will ever be  _ quaint _ ) and a pet cat. He also doubts that such a world will ever exist, not in this lifetime or the next. So, for now, it’s nothing but a happy thought, a hopeful future, a fever dream. 

**Author's Note:**

> WHERE is my monsterfucking, Promare fandom? Where are the fics of the Burnish boys fucking in their STUPID SEXY MONSTER ARMOR? I'm THIRSTY.


End file.
